


Amor Vincit Omnia

by foodie2468



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foodie2468/pseuds/foodie2468
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light." - Aristotle Onassis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Vincit Omnia

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Kelley watched the second hand of the clock slowly turn in a circle, each hesitant beat matching that of her heart.

The hard plastic chair dug into the small of her back, and her tired muscles twinged painfully when she attempted to find a more comfortable position. She scoffed. It was impossible to find comfort in these chairs. They weren’t meant to be comfortable. They were meant to be harsh. Unforgiving. Just like the stark white walls and unflinchingly bright incandescent lights. 

Fingers, still coated with a fine layer of dirt and grass, clasped together. She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. Her head dipped, and the itch to heave it into her hands burned her palms. Instead, she sniffed and closed her eyes, focusing her thoughts on the breaths coming in and out of her lungs. 

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Her lungs expanded and contracted in time with the clock. That damn clock. She pursed her lips, hands griping each other so tight the color drained from them. They began to tremble. 

This was all her fault.

A small lump formed in her throat, and her chest burned like a roaring fire had suddenly exploded in a flash of agony and despair. Tears stung her eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut even more to hold them in. 

The scene unfolded across the backs of her eyelids. A haunting nightmare that replayed over and over again. She could smell the freshly trimmed grass. Hear the roar of the crowd as the ball careened past midfield and skirted to the foot of a charging Brazilian player.

They were up 2-0. The game was nearly over. Only a few more minutes to play. It shouldn’t have mattered. There was no way, barring a miracle, Brazil could come back to win. But, they pushed forward. Kelley darted back, effortlessly coordinating with Christie and Rachel while Ali did her best to cut off the sprinting striker.

She could hear Hope calling out orders. Helping her defense counter the impending attack.

The normally sweet voice, the one that would softly whisper secrets and promises into her ear as they lay in bed together, wrapped in the blankets and each other, was hoarse from shouting so much. There was still strength there, though. Determination. Confidence.

Kelley did her part, marking the oncoming run on her side while moving in to help contain and protect the center. 

Ali slid at the Brazilian, but her decision was anticipated. The ball sharply spun across the grass, the pass a half-second before Krieger’s foot made it to the intended target. 

Kelley followed the progression. The player dribbled forward, challenging Rachel.

Rachel went for the tackle.

Her opponent was too smart. 

With a deft faint and fake, the ball was past Buehler.

The striker was racing to the ball.

Christie was down a few yards back, scrambling to her feet after being tripped up by an opposing player in a collision the ref either didn’t see or refused to call.

Kelley dug her feet into the ground, but it was going to be too late. She wasn’t going to make it in time to do anything more than pressure the player into making a hasty shot.

Hope came off her line.

Using her speed and reflexes, she dove toward the ball.

It was an easy save compared to many others. Brazil had kicked the ball too far ahead to get past Bue. Hope knew the angles better than anyone. 

Hope smothered the ball when the player was still three steps away from the ball.

The game was effectively over.

It didn’t matter anymore.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

The ending was decided.

But, losing to the United States, losing in her rookie World Cup tournament, losing out on the chance to play for the trophy and the prestige in front of the entire planet, all of those things ate at the yellow clad woman. It was all so quick, and she didn’t have time to change course. To even realize what it was she was doing. Or, at least, that’s what the Brazilian team told the reporters after the match.

Kelley didn’t see the interview.

She was too busy fighting to get in the back of an ambulance.

She rocked forward as the final moments played out.

The ball was in Hope’s hands. Steady. Unyielding. Secure.

The hands that lovingly roamed over Kelley’s body less than 24 hours ago, gently memorizing every inch of her while bringing the shorter brunette to dizzying heights.

Kelley had slowed down her run, seeing the play was dead. Hope had it under control. She wasn’t needed.

She shouldn’t have stopped.

She should have been faster.

The Brazilian didn’t stop.

She never even slowed down.

Hope was already calculating where to send the ball. Kelley knew her mind was turning without even seeing her eyes. That was how Hope was. Smart. Driven. If Kelley had to guess, she was probably going to send a long ball to Pinoe. Let the clock run out with the ball on the other half of the field.

Pinoe never got the ball.

The sickening crunch of leather hitting flesh rung like a cannon in Kelley’s ears.

The plastic squeaked against the tile floor as Kelley hunched over, nausea and bile churning in her stomach.

The red card came out, but what good did it do? 

She acted like the play was still alive. Like the ball wasn’t Hope’s.

Her boot connected with Hope’s head mercilessly.

Kelley’s teeth sunk into the pliant flesh of her bottom lip, and she tasted copper as warm liquid trickled onto the tip of her tongue.

Hope’s head snapped back, her body following a second later.

The whistle blew and the crowd went silent.

Dead silent.

Kelley wasn’t completely sure what happened next. It was all a hazy blur. Her mind shut down. All she could feel was the pounding of her heart smashing in her ears and the thought that – she had to get to Hope. She was on her knees, hands pressing at Hope’s shoulders. Hope didn’t move. Didn’t respond to her calls. 

It was Christie who pulled her back. Held her in place as the trainers and medics rushed to the fallen keeper’s side. She thinks Christie might have spoken soothing words to her, rubbed her back, but Kelley can’t be sure. All she truly remembers is Hope’s prone form. Splayed out in the dirt and grass like a grotesque statue. Brilliantly beautiful yet without life.

Later, she’d learn her teammates came to their fallen comrade’s aid, a brawl nearly forming when Carli and, of all people, Alex took it upon themselves to push the attacker so hard she tripped into Marta, who looked stunned at what just transpired, standing a few feet back. When it looked like a few other Brazilians may take up arms for their teammate, Abby and Lauren jumped in, Pinoe and Ali soon following.

Kelley missed all of it.

She was too busy watching as the trainers carefully placed Hope on one of those stupid bright orange boards they carried around but rarely ever used. They strapped her in. One held her head in place as the others began to carry her off.

She didn’t raise her hand.

No thumbs up.

Nothing at all.

Forgetting about the game. Forgetting about winning a World Cup or anything other than the woman she loved lying unconscious and surrounded by medical staff, Kelley tore away from Christie and ran after them. She quickly caught up, pushing her way in between two FIFA clad medics and blindly grabbing at Hope’s hand.

She held it all the way to the ambulance.

When the staff easily put Hope in the back of the truck and made as if to close the doors on Kelley, like she wasn’t going to go with them to the hospital, she barged in and planted herself at Hope’s head. When one man opened his mouth, she shot him a withering glare and retook Hope’s hand.

“Get us to the fucking hospital.”

It was the only thing she said to anyone.

Anyone other than Hope. 

The whole ride there, it felt like a million years, she quietly whispered to her girlfriend while the two men fluttered around her.

“I love you, baby. You’re going to be ok. I love you, and you’re going to be ok. I promise. I’m here. I’m right here, Hope. I’m not going anywhere.”

When they finally made it to the hospital, Hope was whisked away behind a set of doors Kelley wasn’t allowed to go behind.

So, she waited. Camped out in these stupid fucking hard plastic chairs.

A light brush of fingertips across her shoulder startled the young defender. She peeked up to see Tobin gazing sympathetically down at her. Behind her, Alex paced back and forth angrily, face revealing her agitation just as much as her gait. Carli stood near the wall, arms crossed and face blank, but there was worry in her eyes. Abby and Christie were off to the side, talking lowly between themselves while the rest of the team milled about, some sitting down quietly, others conversing softly in small groups.

There was no sense of celebration at a hard fought victory.

No sense of happiness.

No hope.

Just worry.

Kelley’s eyes tracked back to Tobin’s. Her friend didn’t speak. Her fingers comfortingly rubbed the back of Kelley’s neck.

Tobin waited.

Kelley could feel the deep-seated burn in the depths of her belly. It bubbled in her chest, the ache so strong it made tears well in her russet orbs. An iron fist grappled with her heart, crushing it and sending screams of pain throughout her body and into her head. Into her thoughts. The dark crevices where the sound of leather against flesh and bone played like a broken record.

She didn’t know the tears were streaming down her cheeks until Tobin’s thumb wiped them away.

Sob bursting out, Kelley fell into her friend’s waiting arms. She cried, large heaving gasps rocking her body like physical blows. Tobin held her tightly, not saying anything as Kelley’s tears soaked her shirt.

“Why? Why?” Kelley whimpered, clinging to the thin fabric of the t-shirt. “Fuck.” Hope wasn’t supposed to get hurt. She was supposed to be grinning at Kelley as they celebrated beating Brazil. She was supposed to catch Kelley staring at her during dinner and send her a wink no one else would see except Kelley. 

Hope would hold Kelley close in their shared room, the beds pushed together, as they made love. Kelley would kiss her. Trace the lines of her tattoos with her lips. Taste the waves of her passion with her tongue. They would come together, let the emotional storm overtake them and drop them into a pile of sated limbs and breathless whispers.

They were going to win the World Cup. Kelley was going to see Hope finally achieve the one thing she had yet to achieve. 

Kelley dreamed of seeing the joy lifting that trophy would put in Hope’s eyes.

That was all gone now. Shattered. Rip away.

If only she stopped the ball before Hope had to.

If only she was faster, made a different run, went for the tackle.

Her heart cracked.

“Solo?”

Kelley stiffened. Did someone just say…

“Family for Solo?”

Pushing out of Tobin’s hold, Kelley stumbled to her feet, “Me! That’s me!” She staggered over to the voice.

It was a man, short hair grey around his temples and white coat wrinkled from a long day. He held a clipboard and pen, and he kept pushing at his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Kelley stood in front of him, “Is she ok?”

The rest of the team hovered behind her. 

The doctor took them all in before settling his gaze on Kelley, “Ms. Solo suffered a severe concussion. She is stable, but until she wakes up we will not know the true extent of her injury. She has been admitted, and we will be keeping her at least overnight and possibly longer, depending on our final prognosis, for observation.”

Kelley blinked, dread turning her blood to ice, “Wait, she…she’s not awake?”

The doctor shook his head, “Ms. Solo has not yet regained consciousness.”

“But…when…when will she wake up?”

“We cannot say for certain. It could be within the next minute, it could be a few hours. When she does wake up, we will run a few more tests to determine the extent of her concussion and to se if there are any other underlying injuries.”

Kelley’s voice cracked, “Can…can I see her?”

The doctor licked his lips, “Family only at this time. I’ve already done more than I should in speaking with you about her condition.” He gave a nod, “Being aware of your connection with the patient, however, I determined it would be in her best interests to let her teammates know of her condition.”

Kelley shook her head, “No, I need to see her.”

“Miss…”

“No!” Kelley yelled, the loudness surprising even herself. She clenched her fists, willingly herself to calm down. Tobin placed a supporting hand on her back, “No, you don’t understand. That’s…she’s my…I love her. I need to see her.”

The doctor’s face softened, “I’m sorry. If her family agrees to it, then I would be more than happy to let you in. Until then, I’m afraid, it is restricted to family visits only.”

Abby leaned in to Kelley’s side, weathered hand wrapping around her arm, “Marcus. I’ll call Marcus.”

“Marcus.” Hope’s brother. Oh god, Marcus didn’t know! Johnny and…and Judy and…

“We’ll take care of this.” Abby squeezed her arm, sensing Kelley’s thoughts. She stepped away, cell phone out as Christie began to dial her own, no doubt calling one of the people on Hope’s list of relatives.

Tom and Paul cornered the doctor, pulling him off to the side and asking him questions.

Tobin swung an arm around Kelley’s shoulders, “It’s going to be alright. Hope’s tough. She’ll get through this.”

Kelley wanted to believe her. Wanted so damn much to believe it was true. Hope was fine. She was awake and sitting behind those doors, shooting glares and raising eyebrows at the nurses as they tried to get her into some tacky hospital gown. Hope hated those gowns. 

Abby held up her phone, “Doctor?”

“Yes?” the older man turned toward her.

Marcus Solo’s voice rang loud and clear, “Am I on speaker? Tell that sonofabitch to let Kelley in to see my sister.” There was muffled shuffling, “Jesus Christ, Wambach, what the fuck happened out there? What the hell was that?”

Abby quickly pulled the phone back, clicking it off speaker and bringing it back to her ear.

The doctor sent Kelley a small smile, “If you’d like to follow me, Ms. Kelley.”

Kelley was moving to the door before he even finished his sentence.


End file.
